


Helpmate

by IJM



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Fluff, Gen, by request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IJM/pseuds/IJM
Summary: My sweet friend Savannah requested a fluffy fic that included Elizabeth being sick. Not like COVID-19 sick, just the flu.
Relationships: Franco Baldwin/Elizabeth Webber Baldwin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	Helpmate

Elizabeth groaned as she woke up. Her head was hurting and her whole body ached. She had been kicking her legs all night trying to ease the maddening muscle aches. She had been diagnosed with the flu the day before and it was hitting her hard this morning.

She looked at her phone to check the time. She was late to make sure the boys were ready and off to school. She sighed. A few years ago, it would all have been her responsibility. Since her husband’s side of the bed was empty, she could relax, knowing he had taken care of the kids that morning.

The house was very quiet. She got out of bed and put on her robe and slippers. She put her hand to her head. It felt like she was being hit repeatedly with a very blunt instrument. Her forehead was wet. She had been sweating in her sleep.

Elizabeth made her way halfway down the stairs before Franco met her. “No, no, no,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist and taking her hand. “Back upstairs. Back in bed.”

“I have to—” Her protest was cut off.

“ _Rest_. You have to _rest._ You have the flu. I called Epiphany and reminded her you are sick. She told me to stay home with you, which I would have done anyway. Felix is going to work your shift for the next few days.”

“Days?” Elizabeth repeated, as Franco led her to the bed and helped her get comfortable again. “The boys?” she asked, as she laid her head on her pillow.

“They’re fine. I made them all take their temp before they left,” he chuckled as he pushed her hair out of her face. “They said I’m turning into you.”

Elizabeth smiled. She felt so gross right now, but her husband looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Why?” Franco asked. “You always do that when someone is sick. You know—don’t leave the house until you’re fever free for twenty-four hours.”

“Well, yeah. _I_ do that,” Elizabeth agreed.

“So, I’m supposed to do that too, obviously,” Franco concluded.

“Obviously,” Elizabeth smirked. Not one other man she had been involved with had paid attention to those _mommy_ things she did nor tried to enforce them. She was amused that Franco had done it and would have given him a big kiss if she wasn’t afraid of making him sick too.

“Have you taken your temperature?” he asked. He pulled a thermometer out of his pocket. “Have thermometer. Will travel.”

“You’d be a great nurse,” Elizabeth told him patting his cheek. “I don’t have to take my temp. I know I have fever.”

“Ibuprofen?” he asked.

She nodded.

In a moment, he returned from the bathroom with a cup of water and a pill.

She took the medicine.

“Do you think you can eat anything?”

Elizabeth made a sound of disgust. She didn’t want to eat.

“How about a couple of crackers so the ibuprofen doesn’t make your stomach hurt?”

She looked up at his face. There was so much concern in his eyes and all she had was the flu. He was doing everything she did with the boys when they were sick. He really paid attention to her. That alone made her feel better. “Okay, just a few saltines,” she agreed. He was trying so hard that the least she could do was be a cooperative patient.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised. “Do you need anything else from the kitchen? Water, tea, orange juice?”

“Some piping hot tea with honey and lemon,” she requested.

“You got it,” he promised.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and closed her eyes. A few years ago, if she had been sick, she would have been pushing herself to make sure the kids had everything they needed while trying to keep them from getting sick too.

A _helpmate,_ she thought. That’s what Franco was for her. A _helpmate_. That’s what she had been missing all her life until he came along—someone who cared enough about her needs and her boys to just _help_. She didn’t feel indebted to him. She didn’t feel as if she were a bother. He really _wanted_ to be there with her, doing whatever he could to make her life easier and to make her feel better. She was overwhelmed with how lucky she was.

By the time Franco came back with a bed tray with hot tea, saltines, and a hastily drawn picture of a rose in a vase, Elizabeth was in tears.

Franco’s expression fell. He set the tray by the bed. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you hurting? Do you need to go to the doctor? What do I need to do?”

Elizabeth patted the bed beside her, indicating that he should sit down with her. She scooted over a bit. “Just keep being you,” she told him. “I don’t know why you love me so much.”

“Because you’re totally lovable,” he said, stroking her unusually rosy face.

“No, I’m not. But you love me anyway. And you love my kids. You’re making me tea and bringing me saltines. You made sure everything was taken care of.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Franco shrugged. It wasn't a big deal to him. It was what he was supposed to do and what he wanted to do for his family. 

“Oh, yes, it is,” she assured him. “It’s the biggest of big deals.”

“I think you’re delirious,” Franco joked. “You don’t have to cry because I brought you tea.”

“I’m crying because no one has ever loved me like you do.” Her voice drifted into a whisper. “I wish everyone could have what we have.”

“Everyone?” he asked, skeptically.

“Everyone,” she reiterated. “Because if everyone had what we have, no one would be unkind to strangers. They’d be _so happy_ , floating on the clouds of their love that they would just have to be… _happy_.”

Franco smiled. Elizabeth was a tiny woman. Medication usually hit her fast and hard. “I appreciate your sentiment,” he told her. “But I think maybe _you’re_ floating on some clouds.”

“If I’m floating, will you catch me when I fall?” Her eyelids were heavy and her question was slightly slurred.

“Always,” Franco promised. He stroked her hair back because it kept falling over her forehead. Her tea was getting cold and her saltines were untouched, but his Elizabeth was floating off into a peaceful dream. His most fervent hope was to make her reality as peaceful as her sleep.

—END


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